A New Adventure
by Breakaway25
Summary: John Smith was your average college student, well except for the fact that he is attending the US Naval Academy and that he owns a Piper Cub. While he was flying the Cub home for the summer, something happened. Now he is stuck in a world populated by strange creatures with even stranger abilities. He must learn to live in the world of Pokemon. Please Read and Review.


**Syn: **When a midshipman flying home on leave his small plane is pulled out of our word and into another, he finds himself in a strange situation. Now trapped in a world inhabited by strange creatures with even stranger abilities, he must learn to live in the world of Pokémon. Eventual pokeshipping.

Chapter 1: A Stranger in a Strange Land

**Author's note:** Once again I venture into the world of Pokémon. My very first story on this site was very similar to this one, but it was a bad idea to begin with and had a plot line to nowhere. So it was removed due to my rule on deadfics.

Before I get into the meat of this story I need to explain it inspiration. This idea came from the fact that the Pokémon games are really just turn based strategy games in disguise. So the idea came: What if I took a military man from our world and put him into the world of Pokémon. How would he use the tactical and strategic lessons perfected in our world and apply them to pokémon battles. That is where this story comes into play.

So as I know that 90% of the readers of this story are skipping this note(I know I do most of the time) I will add this for all who took the time to read this: As I am terrible at picking titles for stories, I will be having a titling contest. The person who sends me the best title will get an acknowledgment in the next chapter, or some other suitable prize that I have yet to figure out.

* * *

Midshipman 3/C John Smith was in his element. He was sitting at the controls of an aircraft. While not the F-18 he had dreamed about flying when he was younger, the small plane he was currently flying was much better.

Smith never considered himself to be a large man, tall, maybe, but not large. He carried his 160 pounds on a trim lithe frame that gave him the appearance of a swimmer. He wore a small pair of eyeglasses perched on his nose, and his short, brown hair was currently covered by a large, floppy boonie hat. His face, while still youthful, was beginning to develop the crags and lines of a man who spent the majority of his time outdoors.

His lifestyle over the last year had been hectic, to say the least. Born and raised on the oilfields of Oklahoma, he had been a pilot for most of his life, learning how to fly a plane before he could drive a car. He had received his private pilot's license when he turned seventeen, a year ago.

As a high school senior he had been planning to attend the US Naval Academy and eventually earn a pair of wins of gold as a Naval Aviator. That plan had come to a screeching halt not long ago, a medical examination found that his eyesight, while not militarily disqualifying, was enough to ensure that he would never sit in the front seat of a fighter jet. He received a letter of appointment to the Academy a few weeks later, and, after a week of thought, decided to accept it.

Then another shock came, this time, however, it was good. An old friend of the family, the man who had taught Smith how to fly, had decided that it was finally time to retire. He had owned and operated a small flight school and air tour company, and, as such, owned a half-dozen small planes. One day after Smith had received his letter of appointment, the man had called Smith and told him to come down to the small, private airstrip where his planes were held. When Smith got there he was shocked by what the man told him next. He said that he had heard about how Smith was unable to follow his dream, and about his appointment. He explained that he was getting to old to run the company anymore, and with the exception of a single Cessna Skyhawk, he was selling all of his airplanes. He then told Smith to pick a single plane out of the half-dozen, and he would give Smith the plane.

Smith spent ten minutes just wandering between the row of planes just thinking about them. Then one jumped out to him. It was an old Piper J-3 Cub that wore the paint scheme of an Army L-4. When Smith asked the old man about it, he told Smith that the L-4 had seen service in France during WWII as an artillery spotter and that he had bought it after the war as surplus. Right then and there, Smith knew his choice. He flew the plane home within the hour.

When Smith left for the Academy, he took the little plane with him. Stored at a small airstrip in Annapolis, Smith found himself spending most of his free weekends working on the plane. He touched up its old paint and even had the word NAVY written on the fuselage in big, block letters. He was even able to scrounge up enough money to pay for a brand new engine for the Cub. One of the strip's mechanics claimed that Smith's Cub was in better shape now than it was when it had rolled out of the factory in 1942.

He was currently in the process of flying the little Cub back to his home in Oklahoma to spend the summer liberty with his folks. While the Piper cub has many virtues, fuel capacity wasn't one of them. He was having to hop from airfield to airfield, refuel his plane, and camp out under its wing. He was in the middle of finding a new airfield to set down on, when it happened.

He almost didn't notice it when a white light burst into his eyes. It grew in intensity until Smith could no longer stand it. He was forced to shield his eyes from the blinding light. Then as soon as it had appeared, id disappeared leaving Smith wondering what had happened. He immediately checked his surroundings. He noticed something odd, the prairie that he had been flying over for the past hour was gone. It had been replaced by a lush, green deciduous forest. _How could a forest just appear like that?_

The he noticed something else, his needle on his fuel gauge was hovering just above the E-line. He would have to fin a place to land, and fast. Quickly scanning his surroundings for a second time, he saw what looked like a road snaking its way through the forest. While not an ideal landing spot, he was sure that it was more than large enough to land the little Cub on it. He banked the little airplane around and lined up with the road. It was a textbook landing low airspeed, low angle of attack, and a perfect flare at the end. Now on the ground Smith could see that the road was an unpaved dirt trail that looked to be a well traveled footpath. He decided then and there, to take a nap. He would figure out what to do later. Leaning back in his seat he pulled his hat over his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Smith was woken sometime later by the sound of something scratching outside. He cautiously unhooked his seat belt and then leaned over to unlatch the cockpit door. He had been doing this long enough to guess that whatever it was outside wanted to get into the small plane to get at his food supply. He threw open the door and jumped out of the cockpit with a shout.

What he saw was a large, purple rat. He stared at the creature for a moment before it screamed, "Rattata," and ran back into the woods.

"What the heck was that?" Smith muttered. _Well, I'm outside. Time to assess the situation. _He saw that the "road" where he had landed was little more than a well worn footpath. _Well, all roads lead to Rome_. He turned back to the plane and folded both seats down to access the cargo compartment. He pulled out his backpack, a large Alps brand pack designed for long term backpacking. He also removed his sleeping pad, tent, and sleeping bag, each designed to provide the most comfort for the least amount of weight. Packing the pack with the essential items he finished off the load with a few freeze dried meals, his stove, a few full Nalgene water bottles, a pack of water purification tabs, and a sheathed Ka-Bar knife.

Having one last thought he slipped out of his t-shirt and blue jeans and pulled on his set of NWU's The NWU was the Navy's version of the Army's BDU. It was a jacket and pants made of a heavy ripstop nylon, that was almost impervious to thorns and brambles. Smith had discovered long ago that the best clothes for a campout was a set of BDU's, he had thrown both of his pairs of NWU's for just this reason.

Feeling that he had everything he needed, Smith closed the cockpit door and locked it. _I don't like leaving the Cub here all alone_. He quickly reached back and flipped up the engine cowl. Reopening the cockpit door he reached inside to retrieve the small toolbox that he kept in the door. He pulled out a wrench and walked over to the open engine cowl. The wrench was used to remove the engine's magnetos which was then locked back into the toolbox. _Well I guess that's all I can do here_. Smith went back over to his pack, and started off down the road.

After a few minutes of walking Smith stopped when he heard an ominous rustling in a bush up ahead of him. _I wonder what that could be_. He stared at the bush for a few seconds when a small dog jumped out, growling. _That's the strangest dog I've ever seen_. The majority of its coat was a dark orange, but it had several black stripes on its haunches. Before Smith could do anything, the dog barked, "Growlithe."

* * *

"Growlithe?" the trainer said, confused. The little growlithe was a bit confused himself at the trainer's reaction. Normally a trainer would immediately reach for his own poke-balls and try to catch the growlithe, but this one just stood staring. The growlithe growled again, trying desperately to scare away the trainer, he had seen enough of the other woodland pokémon be captured over the years to know that his only chance to remain free was to scare away the trainer. It had worked well enough in the past, and he was hoping it would work today.

Then the trainer surprised the growlithe, he kneel down and extended a hand, palm up, to the puppy pokémon in a gesture of friendliness. The growlithe backed up at the gesture, but didn't run off yet, its curiosity had been piqued. Then the trainer did something that the growlithe had never seen before, he reached back into his backpack and came out with a foil wrapped object. He unwrapped it and held it out. The growlithe gave the object an appraising sniff, and, deciding that it was edible, snatched it from the trainer's hand. This was strange, no trainer that he had ever seen before had offered him food, they had only tried to catch him.

He lowered his defenses to the trainer by a fraction and stopped his growling. When he laid down to eat the food that he had been given, the trainer reached over to him. This action immediately restarted the growling, and the trainer recoiled his hand. He shrugged and stood up, the he began to walk away seemingly forgetting about the growlithe. As the growlithe watched the trainer walk out of sight as he finished his snack, he came to a conclusion. This trainer hadn't treated him in the same cavalier manner that the other trainers he had encountered in the past had. He had tried to befriend the small Pokémon and had not once produced a poke-ball. The growlithe decided that if this trainer was willing to treat a Pokémon with that much respect and friendliness, he wouldn't mind traveling with the trainer. He began to follow the trainer down the road, keeping just out of sight, just in case the trainer had a change of heart and produced a poke-ball.

* * *

Smith was still trying to decide how to interpret what he had just seen. _What king of dog was that. Was it a dog, or something else. I'm almost sad that it didn't let me pet it, oh well maybe sometime in the future. _Smith was so lost in his thoughts that he almost forgot about the slowly sinking sun. He was finally snapped back into reality by the long shadows of the surrounding trees that were being cast across his path. He decided that it would be a safe bet to stop for the night.

Finding a small stream and a flat piece of ground, he dropped his pack and began to pitch his tent. Next he took an empty water bottle and filled from the stream. After dropping in a purification tab he set the bottle off to the side. _So what's for dinner. Freeze dried spaghetti and meatballs or freeze dried lasagna? I'm feeling special, I'll go with __the lasagna. Now how do I work this stove again_. He dug around in the pack until he felt the neoprene sleeve of the Jet-Boil stove.

Soon the stove was fully assembled and its flame was roaring away. Smith began to whistle an old marching tune as he dug around the pack for a fork. The whistled march continued, slowly building in volume to a climax. Smith pulled the now boiling water off of the stove and poured it into the foil bag that held the freeze dried dinner. Sticking the fork into the food, he stirred in the water, and then pulled out the utensil. He began to wave it through the air in time to his whistling, as if it were a conductor's baton. The march increased tempo and then began to fade away as he approached the end of the song.

The whistling ceased abruptly as he felt a cold, wet object press itself into his back. He turned to look at what had poked him. _Hey, it's that dog from earlier. I bet he followed me because he was hungry, they always say that the quickest route to a dog's heart is through its stomach. Or was that a man's? _He lowered he hand again and began to call the dog closer. To his surprise, it came. Soon it was close enough for him to touch. He slowly raised his hand and held it in front of the dog's nose. It was given an appraising sniff, and then a large, wet lick. _Well, I guess it's friendly enough_. Smith chuckled as he started to pet the dog behind its ears. "I, bet you're hungry. Aren't ya boy?" Smith said, laughing

"Growlithe," the dog barked with a wag of its tail.

_I wonder?_ "Do you have an owner, or are you as lost as me?" Smith said, looking the dog in the eye.

"Grow growlithe," the dog growled, with a shake of his head.

_Well, I wouldn't mind a dog right now_ "Would you like to tag along with me for a bit?" The dog wagged his tail furiously and jumped up to lick Smith's face. "Alright, alright, you can stay. Just one thing though, you're gonna need a name. Can't very well be calling you dog all the time."

"Growlithe grow, growlithe," the dog barked, cocking his head to the side.

"What, you wanna be called growlithe?" Smith, still didn't understand why the dog kept barking like that, but he had seen stranger things. The dog shook his head vigorously. "No, how about Rex, that's a good dog name." It shook its head again. "Fido?" Another shake. "Teddy? No, I didn't like that one either."

The dog gave an exasperated "woof" as if to say, "Just pick a good name already."

"You're gonna think this is stupid, but how about Patton?"

The dog gave a thoughtful stare and then barked, "Growl?" Smith interpreted that to mean, "Why?"

"Well, Patton was a great general and tank commander back in WWII. He was considered to be a very aggressive fighter and even kept a dog with him on the battlefield," Smith explained. _I'm quoting history to a stray dog. I must be going crazy. _

The dog seemed to think for a second, rolling the name around his tongue. Then he nodded his head and jumped up to lick Smith again.

"Alright then, Patton it is. Well then, Patton, ya want some dinner now?" Smith got another lick. "I thought so." He opened the now reconstituted bag of lasagna and began to eat, giving a forkful to Patton every so often.

Growlithe, no it was Patton now, was a very happy growlithe. He had met up with the strange trainer, made a new friend, and gotten a new name. He even liked the name, and when the trainer had explained that it had been the name of a great general, he didn't know what that word meant but he assumed that it was like a warrior, he liked the name even more. Now he was sharing a meal with the trainer as he absentmindedly petted Patton on the head.

"Looks like the food's all gone. Well, I guess it's time for bed," the trainer said as he pushed himself off of the ground. Patton whined, he didn't want the trainer to leave. This won Patton another scratch behind the ears, which he liked very much. The trainer walked over to the small tent that he had pitched earlier.

Patton had seen many trainers come down this road in the past, but a large majority of them slept beneath the stars, very few had tents. He was a bit confused as what to do next. The trainer must have seen Patton's confused look because he said, "I'm gonna sleep in my tent Patton. You can either sleep out here, or try to squeeze in with me. It's a nice night tonight, so I'm gonna leave the door rolled up." He said as he sat down and began to pry off his boots. Patton noticed that when the trainer backed into the tent, it had two doors. The trainer had indeed left both doors rolled up and now there was a gap between them. When Patton walked over, he saw that the gap was a perfect size for him to lie down in.

He was curled up in the spot within seconds, and barely felt as the trainer's hand began to stroke his fur before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Smith was awoken the next day by a bright ray of sunshine shining in his face, and a wet tongue licking his face. "Okay, okay, I'm up, he said with a chuckle. He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag and began to break camp. Within fifteen minutes the campsite was nothing more than spot where his tent had packed the ground. He donned his boonie hat and strapped on his pack. He began to walk down the trail, and noticed that Patton was walking with him. "So, you decided to follow me for awhile?"

The dog gave a cheerful, "Growl," and wagged his tail. Smith laughed and continued to walk. Two hours later he spotted a wooden sign on a post ahead of him. When he got close to it he saw that it simply read, "Pallet Town," and had an arrow pointing down the trail.

"Well, I guess we're getting close to civilization, Patton," Smith remarked.

"Growl-lithe," Patton agreed. Ten more minutes of walking later he spotted the shingled roof of a building through the trees. Ten minutes after that he could see the entire town laid out in front of him.

_Well it's small, but at least it's a town. They probably have supplies and gas there. _"Come on, Patton, let's go," Smith said as he broke into a jog. Five minutes later he found himself on the main street of the small town, looking for a gas station or a store of some kind. He spotted a woman sweeping a porch and walked over to her. "Excuse me, miss, I need directions to the nearest gas station, and some information about where I am?" he asked.

The woman put down her broom and said, "Well, I don't know about a gas station, but the best place for information in town would have to be Professor Oak's house."

"Where might that be?" he asked.

"Just down the road, it's the large house with the large windows out front."

"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Smith said, doffing his hat.

"Growlithe," Patton added. The woman, on hearing Patton, looked down at the dog.

"Oh, look, what a cute Growlithe. Are you a trainer?" she asked.

"Excuse me," Smith said with a look of complete incomprehension.

"Well, then Professor Oak it the perfect man to go see. Good luck finding what you need," she said with a wave. Smith returned it and began to walk to the described house.

* * *

Professor Oak, the self proclaimed Pokémon Professor, was humming a tune to himself as he started to make a pot of tea. He had just finished the yearly task of passing out Pokedexes and starter pokémon to the newest crop of trainers. Every year it amazed the Professor just how many new trainers there were. He was startled from his reminiscence by a knock on his door. "Probably just another one that overslept," he muttered, chuckling. When Oak opened his door he was shocked to find a young man, probably 17 or 18, wearing what looked to be blue and gray camouflage fatigues. "May, I help you?" Oak asked, pleasantly.

"I was told that you may be able to better explain the situation, and I need to buy some gas," the young man announced.

"Well, I can definitely help you out with the gas, I have a tank out back that I rarely dip into. But before I can help you with information, what's your name and where are you from?" Oak asked.

"My name is John Smith, and I'm from Norman, Oklahoma. But up till recently I've been living in Annapolis, Maryland at the Naval Academy," Smith replied.

"I'll have to apologize, but I haven't heard of any of those places," Oak said with a look of incredulity.

"Well then, where am I now?" Smith asked.

"Why, you're in Pallet Town in northern Kanto region."

"Kanto region?" Smith asked not understanding at all.

"Growlithe, growl growlithe," Patton added, trying to help explain to his new trainer. Oak, on hearing the puppy pokémon, looked down at him.

"So are you a pokémon trainer?" Oak asked.

"Pokémon?" Smith replied not understanding one bit.

"I get the strange feeling that you're not from around here, are you?"

Smith leaned over to Patton and said, "Toto I don't think that we're in Kansas anymore." Oak raised a questioning eyebrow and when Smith shrugged, he began the same speech that he gave to every new trainer.

* * *

Two hours later Smith was still listening to Professor Oak in rapt fascination. Oak had done a remarkable job explaining to the wayward midshipman about the world of pokémon and now Smith was hooked. _People here battle these creatures for sport. Now that's a sport that I can get behind. _Oak had even shown Smith a few taped examples of pokémon battling. Smith was amazed by the raw power that these creatures demonstrated. He also felt himself falling back onto the training that he had received while at the Academy, analyzing the battles for their mistakes and tactical errors.

Professor Oak had been equally intrigued by Smith's explanation of his world, and his life. He had laughed when Smith explained how he had befriended the Growlithe, and had been curious when Smith had explained his choice of a name for the pokémon. When Smith explained who General George S. Patton Jr. had been, Oak had to agree, it was a good name for a Growlithe. It was clear to Oak that the young man had displayed all of the traits that made really good pokémon trainers. Traits that he had barely seen since a particular young man received a Pikachu as his starter all those years ago. So when Oak announced, "Would you like to become a pokémon trainer, John?" it came as a surprise to the young naval officer.

"How would I do that?" Smith replied, his voice wavering a bit.

"Well, you are a bit old, most trainers begin their journey when they're ten, but I think that you have a rather unique situation. But to answer your question, I would give you your trainer card, Pokedex, and poke-balls. And since that Growlithe seems to have latched onto you, I think that you can use him as your starter," Oak explained.

"Yeah, Professor, that would be great. Oh, and call me Hannibal, all my friends do," Smith said, still in a state of mild shock.

"Hannibal? That's an interesting nickname."

"Eh, its from an old TV show that I used to watch."

"Alright you wait right here and I'll be back with your supplies," Professor Oak sad, as he stood up and disappeared through a door. He came back a few minutes later with a red, plastic device that Smith recognized as the pokedex that Oak had explained to him. He also had a box of six red and white spheres that were the poke-balls that Oak had discussed as well. Then, after receiving some brief instruction from Professor Oak, Smith took one of the balls and threw it at Patton. The ball split in half and the Growlithe disappeared in a flash of white light. The ball fell to the floor and instantly click, signaling that the Growlithe had been captured. Smith immediately picked up the sphere and pressed its center button, releasing the pokémon.

After they had finished there discussion on the wonders of pokémon Oak had explained that Smith's pokedex had a complete guide for new trainers stored on it, Smith could access the guide at any time if he had questions. The Smith asked for ten gallons of gas and a ride down what he now knew was route one. When Oak asked why, Smith explained that it was a bit hard to explain. Oak shrugged and went to retrieve a large SUV that he kept for just this sort of reason, and, after loading the fuel into the back in a few five gallon jerry cans, the pair of humans and one pokémon set off down the road.

One hour later Smith spotted what he had been looking for, the green wing of his L-4. "Stop here, Professor." Smith hopped out and walked over to the little plane. After giving it a quick visual, he determined that it had been left alone since he had landed it here the day before.

"Is this yours?" Oak asked, awestruck staring at the little green plane.

"Yep, been mine for almost a year now," Smith replied, beaming. "Help me get the gas over here, the Piper Cub has many strong points, but gas mileage is not one of them." After a brief struggle with the jerry cans, Smith had their contents in the plane's gas tank. Smith thought for a moment and said, "If you'll please move your truck off of the road so I can take off, then I will meet you back in Pallet Town." Professor Oak nodded his understanding of the plan and turned to go retrieve his SUV, but was stopped by Smith's hand on his shoulder. "Before you go, I need help cranking this thing."

"What do I need to help?" Oak asked.

"Simple, reach up there and grab the propeller. When I yell 'Contact' yank down on it as hard as you can and the get out of the way," Smith explained, "it might not catch the first time, so be prepared to do it again if the engine doesn't start." Professor Oak nodded his understanding of Smith's instructions, and took position a the front of the aircraft. Before Smith climbed into the front seat of the Cub he went to retrieve his pokémon. Coaxing the Growlithe into the rear seat of the Cub, he strapped him in. He even stuck the spare pair of earphone onto his head, and while not designed for dogs, they fit rather well.

This task accomplished, Smith climbed into the front seat and began his pre-flight checklist. Running through the list quickly, he stopped when he remembered something. It took a second then: _The magnetos! I took them off when I left. _Quickly jumping out of the plane he grabbed his toolbox and ran to the engine cowl where Professor Oak was still waiting. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, worried.

"No, nothing's wrong. I just forgot that I removed the magnetos when I left this thing the other day. Just got to put em back in, and I'll be good to go," Smith said as he flipped up he engine cowl. Quickly reinstalling the necessary engine components, he closed the cowl and reentered the cockpit. Settling back into his seat, he prepared the engine for take off, and then yelled, "Contact." He heard the engine turn over, cough, and die as Professor Oak yanked on the prop. "Again" Smith yelled. This time the engine turned over, caught, and roared to life. He saw the Professor running back to his car as he taxied to a position suitable for take off. He threw a cheery wave to the old man and fire walled the throttle. After a quick roll the plane built up enough speed to lift itself into the air. A quick bank and a waggle of the wings and Smith turned to follow the road back to Pallet Town.

* * *

Patton was having the time of his life in the backseat of this flying contraption. He had seen trainers ride on the backs of flying pokémon before, but he had never seen one ride in a machine like this, and the best part, he was getting to ride with him. He was flying, he never imagined that he would get the opportunity to ride into the air with a trainer, but now that he was here, he wouldn't trade the opportunity for the world. He had achieved something that only flying type pokémon could, he was flying! "You doing okay back there, Patton?" he heard the voice of his trainer over the earphones that had been placed on his head.

"Growlithe," Patton replied happily.

Patton heard Smith laugh over the earphones and then say, "I bet you've never seen very many trainers with there own airplanes before. Well your with me now and this might become a common occurrence from now on."

"Grow growlithe," Patton responded, staring out the window at a flock of Pidgey that had begun to follow the little aircraft. He stared out the window at the clouds above and the trees racing below and he knew that he had made the right decision.

* * *

**Author's Footnote: **Well thus ends the first chapter of the epic story. If any of my readers are wondering where this story is going, I don't really know myself. I do know this John "Hannibal" Smith will meet up with Ash Ketchum sometime in the near future.(Probably for a bit next chapter, who better to teach Smith about pokémon battles than Ash?) I am going to have Smith go his own journey to the Kanto gyms for a bit before deciding where to send him next.

I need suggestions for Hannibal's battling team, I want to keep it strictly within the 150 Kanto pokémon but I need suggestions. Thank you all for reading, and please, please, please, REVEIW. It tells me if my writing is good enough to continue. I need feedback to help shape the rest of the story.


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